


Apura (Hurry)

by CuddlyHawk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Lance, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Platonic Relationships, Psychological Torture, Rescue, Torture, Violence, klance, platonic klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk
Summary: Apurar /ah-POOH-rahr/ n. [Spanish] Translates to: to hurry, to rush, to hasten, to speed. Ex) Por favor apúransen (Please hurry, everyone)





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rescue](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/389630) by Socij. 



Apurar /ah-POOH-rahr/ n. [Spanish] Translates to: to hurry, to rush, to hasten, to speed. Ex) Por favor apúransen (Please hurry, everyone)

Lance coughed, whining softly as the jostling irritated his lungs. "P-Please, you guys…" he wheezed. "Por f-favor ap-apúransen..." All around him were purple lights and stains of dark red where his blood smeared on the floor. Despite sitting on a grate and having most of the blood drip down to the drainage system underneath him, it still stunk like copper and gore. At least he didn't have to lay in puddles of it. The grate was uncomfortable on his back and shoulders but it was better than soaking in the blood.

He had been in here for what felt like an eternity but he knew deep down that it couldn't have been more than a week. He'd been taken out at least five times to go a few rounds in the Arena. He always came out of the matches much more beaten and hurt than when he went in. But he was still alive and fully intact. He just wasn't sure how much longer he would last before the druids would take a liking to him and try experimenting on him like they did with Shiro. Thankfully (he had to be thankful for something in this hellhole) he was defeated often enough not to get too much attention on himself.

"Apúransen…" he breathed again, shifting against the grate on the floor to try to get more comfortable. His bound arms gave him a shock of pain and his body stiffened, face contorting in agony and his breathing hitched high in his throat. When he was able to roll onto his stomach, cheek pressed to the bars, his breath started coming back to him in quick hisses. Uncomfortable, Lance squeezed his eyes shut again and tried breathing through the pain coursing through his body. Tried. A rough sob pulled from his throat and tears spilled over his cheeks to drip through the bars, mingling with the blood below.

The last Arena tournament he had been in, they were split into teams of two. Lance's partner looked like a grown alien, but after they were talking before their turn to go on, Lance realized she was just a kid. He begged the guards to send him out alone, and let the girl go back to her cell. But the guards hit him with a stun baton to shut him up and threw both of them into the ring. Lance closed his eyes tighter against the mental images of him and the girl against four other teams. His poor partner was slaughtered first. Usually the galra would pull someone from the ring before they were killed, but Lance could tell that they had put her in the fight simply to watch her die. His stomach roiled when he remembered how all her limbs were ripped from her and scattered around the arena, blood absolutely everywhere. And the noise she made… Lance knew he'd never forget that heart wrenching sound for the rest of his life. He fought the urge to vomit. He had gotten a small piece of bread before he was thrown back in his cell, and since he had fallen asleep after the door was closed and had no idea how much time had passed, he knew he'd need to keep as much food inside him as he could, despite memories and blood and death that awaited him every time he closed his eyes. He didn't know when he'd get fed again.

Lance wondered, not for the first time, where his team was. Where was Allura with the castleship of paladins? Where was Shiro, the Champion? Or Keith, the fastest and most agile of them all? Heck, he'd even be happy to see Coran, even though he was just the royal advisor. Anything would be better than the ugly mugs of the galra soldiers who ripped him from his safe place in his cell and threw him into the death trap just to watch him suffer. Lance's eyes started to slide closed again. His whole body ached and some thoughts of his team abandoning him started to filter through his exhausted mind.

Tears slid free from Lance's already-damp eyes and he cursed himself for being so weak. The others wouldn't cry. Yet here Lance was, crying after every Arena match, after every death he witnessed...even when he was just lying in his cell, he'd start crying apparently. Weak. The thought felt like ice in his blood and it made him shiver, choking on another quiet sob. Completely weak.

His mind started to separate itself from his body, preparing for Lance to fall unconscious for the god-knows-which time. But before he slipped fully into unconsciousness, he heard footsteps in front of his cell. His heart leaped into his throat. No, he wasn't ready. He couldn't do another round, not so soon. He suddenly realized they must have gotten bored with him and wanted to watch him die. And Lance was determined to die without crying. He rubbed his cheek with his shoulder, smearing the dirt and grime, before the door opened. But in the doorway stood Haggar. She smiled evilly and closed the door behind her. The room was sent back into shrouding darkness and Lance swallowed down a whimper.

"I will ask you some questions." Was all she said. This was new. In the whole time he had been here, they hadn't interrogated him, despite what Lance had expected. They had just torn his armor from him and threw him in the cell, dressed like any other galra prisoner. Lance sat up straighter, wincing when his bound arms ached. Haggar stepped closer and held her hand out to him threateningly. "What is your team's weakness?"

Lance's mind felt like it short-circuited. She didn't want to know about Voltron? She wanted to know how much Lance knew about his teammates? Through his muddled mind, Lance knew he couldn't tell her the truth. At least not the full truth. He opened his mouth, a wheezing breath slowly becoming words. "...we...support...each other..." he said with a tired but confident smirk. "You'll never...break them... They'll...come for...me."

Haggar gave a smirk of her own and Lance felt his blood go cold. "Oh, I doubt that. You've been here for months, little human. If they haven't come for you by now, they aren't going to at all. They don't need you."

The words hurt much more than Lance had expected, and he lost the rigidness to his back, resulting in him slumping bonelessly to the side. No. No way, she had to be lying. There was no way he had been there for a WEEK, let alone MONTHS... She was wrong, his team was coming back for him.

...right?

Haggar stepped closer, smiling viciously. "They left you here with us. They knew how useless you are and decided they wanted to get a new blue paladin: from what my soldiers have told me, the princess has taken your place. So I ask again: what is their weakness?"

His brain stuttered. "I...I don't know," he admitted. Haggar swooped in and gripped him around the throat, lifting him to be eye-level with her. Lance's body ached and he let out a gurgling cry, wanting to push her off him but unable to even move. Tears filled his eyes and he couldn't breathe.

She leaned real close, "Their weakness? Is _you_."

Lance landed hard on the floor, gasping for air and shaking uncontrollably. "Wh-Wha...?" He finally managed when he caught his breath. Haggar strode around the room, cape tailing behind her and in front of Lance's face. He looked up to see her victorious grin and had to look away from the rotten teeth and the piercing eyes.

Haggar swept her way to the doorway, letting her words sink in. When she was sure Lance wasn't going to ask more than a weak half-question, she explained, "Yes, boy. YOU are their weakness. The most inefficient teammate, the one who cannot follow orders, always making jokes and can't take his job seriously. You bring your team down. The only reason they kept you was because they felt bad for you. The low-class pilot from their school, might as well give him some job to make him feel special, they told themsleves. You want to know how I know?" She summoned a screen of magic and Lance, through overflowing eyes, could see the footage from the castle's security system. There was a date on it, it was when they had first come to space. Coran and Allura were talking to Hunk and Pidge.

_"You wanted to talk to us about Lance?"_ Hunk had asked.

Allura nodded solemnly, _"I do not think he is ready. What rank did he hold? Is he capable of flying on his own?"_

_"He was a cargo pilot,"_ Hunk said. _"Only moved up to fighter class when Keith left."_

_"Hunk gets sick when Lance flies. He tends to fly erratically and doesn't listen to me when I tell him the status of the ship. He does whatever he wants,"_ Pidge added. Allura frowned.

_"Do either of you think he can be trusted with a ship, like the Blue Lion?"_

_"Honestly I don't know,"_ Hunk answered quietly. Then the screen went black. Haggar's smile grew.

"They do not trust you, they do not want you anywhere near their precious lions, they do not want to be under your piloting." She leaned close to Lance. "They want nothing to do with you." Lance swallowed thickly but kept up a firm expression, glaring at the witch. Haggar leaned back and turned away before speaking to one of the guards. "Take him to the Arena."


	2. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful artwork in this chapter is what inspired this story. It's a piece I commissioned from Socij and it's one of (if not my top) my favorite klance pieces out there. And now you all get to enjoy it too!

The door slid open and Lance peered up through blurry eyes. The Arena had been particularly tough and Lance was lucky to be alive. He had only just caught his breath -- and maybe had some sleep? He couldn't tell anymore what was real and what was a dream -- and in the doorway stood Hunk and Shiro.

His heartbeat began to race.

They found him! He was finally getting out of there!

Struggling to sit up and only managing to roll onto his side, Lance groaned out an excited noise. "You found me!" He choked, tears filling his eyes. Hunk started toward him while Shiro stood in the doorway, hand on his gun. Gun?

SLAP!

Lance tasted copper and when he finally was able to refocus himself, he realized that Hunk had slapped him across the face. His cheek stung and he worked his jaw to ease the ache. "What...?" Hunk produced a stun baton from his belt and stuck the prongs into Lance's stomach, causing him to choke on a half-formed sob. "Hunk, stop!" Lance whimpered, pleading. "It's me! What's wrong with you?!" But Hunk said nothing and continued to stab Lance, leaving sharp burn marks from the electricity in Lance's skin.

He looked desperately up at Shiro, who still stood in the doorway. "Shiro, help me!" He sobbed, reaching a hand out to him, only to have his forearm be stabbed with the electric prong, eliciting a muted yelp. Shiro did nothing but watch with a smug grin. Lance realized they weren't about to help him, and he felt his heart break a little more. His team... His friends... They were hurting him. Their faces, their bodies, but it wasn't them. It couldn't be. They would never.

And yet...

With another jab, another cry, Lance gave up fighting and allowed the darkness of unconsciousness swallow him. He didn't know how much time passed.

 

*****

 

Lance had just about given up hope. Haggar was relentless, forcing him to see his teammates coming for him over and over, only to betray him and hurt him. He had learned to fear seeing his team. He spent most of his time lying on the grate, unmoving and barely breathing. Luckily they had stopped forcing him to go into the Arena. Somewhere deep inside he knew it was because he was dying. And Haggar wanted him alive for their psychological torture. So hour after hour, day after day, he laid there, sometimes Shiro would visit him, sometimes Keith. Allura would almost kiss him only to stab him in the stomach. Pidge would appear to hack the door while Hunk worked on the shackles. But he would only make them tighter and Pidge would make the room colder.

He was so cold…

When the door slid open and light poured into the dark room, Lance shut his eyes. No more. He opened his mouth, dry from crying, lack of use, and absence of water and tried to call out. No more. He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d rather die.

No noise escaped him.

Keith appeared in the doorway, bayard drawn and activated. His eyes fell on Lance and his expression hardened. He said something to the comms in his helmet, but Lance didn’t care. It was a trick. Something would get worse. He just knew it. The room would get colder, he would get electrocuted again, something.

...But what was taking so long? Keith was just standing in the doorway, and when Lance’s glassy eyes shifted to the ground, he saw that the guard was unconscious next to Keith. Strange.

Slowly, Keith approached. He was speaking, but Lance couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. He tensed when Keith was looming over him, trying to glare up at him but knowing that he must have looked ridiculously pitiful.

Then, hands were on his back and shoulder. Lance winced, waiting for the pain. His eyes slid shut. But no pain came. Instead, soft circles were massaged into his sore shoulder. Comforting. Lance was confused but kept his guard up. Buzzing could be heard, then Keith was speaking again. Talking to the team, Lance knew. What ‘team’ it was remained to be seen. He was obviously a hallucination working for Haggar. It was just a matter of time.

A soft hand suddenly was on his head, and Lance tensed. This was it. Keith would break his neck and it would finally be over. He waited, but the strong fingers just carded through Lance’s hair. These were all gentle touches. What was Haggar playing at? Lance’s breathing increased, his anxiety skyrocketing. Never had he had gentle touches before while he was here. If this was Haggar’s new trick, it would work. It was already working.

Keith grasped Lance’s shoulders and supported him, lifting his sore body into a sitting position. Finally, Lance’s eyes slid open and he looked at his hallucination. Keith was scuffed up from a fight, but his eyes were hard and soft at the same time. He looked at Lance with such tenderness, and yet such hatred. Lance couldn’t figure out the emotions, so he closed his eyes and made to lay back down. But he collided with a firm, warm barrier. When he listened close he could hear a heartbeat. And he was held tighter when arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezed gently. Finally, he heard it when Keith spoke.

“I’m here, I’m right here. You’re safe, Lance.”

Confused, Lance tried to speak, but his voice was still raw and tacky; useless. Just like he was.

“-w much longer?” Keith was saying, “He doesn’t look good, we need an extrac-“ Lance’s hearing fuzzed out and his vision became gray. He would have just slipped back into sleep but Keith’s firm hand patted his cheek, bringing his attention back to his broken body.

“Stay with me, just a little longer,” Keith promised. Lance was shifted into a new position and a quiet noise of protest squeezed from his throat. “Sorry,” Keith whispered as Lance felt his shackles being messed with. As it was, Lance was sitting sideways in Keith’s lap, head supported by Keith’s strong shoulder. Keith, meanwhile, worked on the exposed handcuffs. Being galra came in handy, because after a few ticks, the shackles fell away to reveal very red and raw wrists. Keith gently moved Lance’s arms so they could be at a more natural angle, but Lance stiffened, breath catching. His arms were extremely sore from being held in that position for too long.

Lance had tears trickling from his eyes. What was going on? Was Keith really there? He smelled like Keith, felt like him, acted like him. Could it be…?

Sounds from outside the cell could be heard. Gunshots, shouting. Hunk raced by the door, yelling as he took out sentries. Keith didn’t move, his focus staying completely on the immobile body in his arms. It took an effort but Lance was able to lift one arm and wrap it loosely, shakily around Keith. If this was a hallucination it would destroy him mentally. But if not, he was going to do his best to help his team rescue him.

Lance tried to speak again, tried to ask Keith if he was real, tried to convince his sluggish mind that he was being rescued. Again he was met with silence. His breath caught in his throat and he coughed dryly. The arms around him tightened ever so slightly. "Don't try to speak. We'll take care of you," Keith was murmuring into his ear, and Lance couldn't tell if he was being genuine or not. He had never heard Keith speak so tenderly before. It had to be a trick.

No, he was safe. It was alright.

It couldn't be. His team hated him, they abandoned him.

But they were here now.

Out of pity.

Lance shook his head, trying to dispel the arguing in his head. His heart wanted his team to be here but his mind insisted that Haggar was right and they couldn't be here as a good thing. Eventually the exhaustion caught up to him and his eyes slid closed. He felt patting on his cheek again but couldn't bring himself to stay conscious.


	3. Recovery

_When he opened his eyes it was dark. Had it been a dream? Was it another hallucination from Haggar? He made to sit up but found his arms bound behind him again and a weak noise of frustration elicited from his throat. No, it couldn't have been a dream. His team had found him! He was being saved! What happened?_

Movement.

_Lance felt motion sick, though he wasn't moving. His stomach clenched but he had nothing to bring up. There were muffled voices around him and he could feel himself being moved but he couldn't do anything about it. Everything was dark around him, even the purple lights that used to illuminate the room were out. He was in pitch blackness and he couldn't move._

_A voice._

_"Blue paladin. You are weak. Worthless..." Haggar. Lance wanted to cover his ears, make it stop. But her voice echoed all around him. "...Your team cares not for you and they left you here to rot."_

_No, no._

_"They will never come for you, no matter what you think."_

_No._

_"You will die here, alone and at the hands of my druids."_

"NO!"

Lance shot up, blinded by bright lights. Hands were on him trying to push him down, and his instinct was to resist them. He couldn't see, just felt someone on him and he wanted them off. He fought viciously, clawing and gasping and trying to scramble backwards. Eventually he reached the end of whatever he was sitting on and proceeded to throw himself off of it backwards, causing whoever was fighting with him to cry out.

He landed hard, but he didn't feel the pain. Scrambling back until he was in a corner, he curled up and growled, squinting up at the shadow over him.

"Lance, it's okay. It was just a dream. We saved you, remember? You're home." The shadow that sounded like Keith knelt down and reached out toward him. Lance glared at him until he could see his features. Sure enough, it was Keith. And after a quick look around his surroundings, he realized he was in the castle. Soft blue lights were around him, and the walls were white. There was a bed a few feet away, and when he looked down at a pinch in his arm, he followed a tube up to an IV pole. Dizziness overwhelmed him and he looked back to Keith for answers.

"What's going on?" He demanded, and Keith's expression grew sad.

"We lost you..." Keith said softly. Lance frowned. "We tried so many times to rescue you, but something would always go wrong. It would be a different ship, or one of us would get hurt. Pidge broke her arm during one of the missions. Luckily she's okay, but it was a close one. We kept having to retreat. Finally we found you and we were able to get you out. But...on the flight back, you stopped breathing." Keith's voice was hoarse and he looked away. "We were in Green, and Pidge was flying us to the castle, trying to avoid getting hit. We were invisible. Stealth mission. In and out. There was a small fight, but once we were in the lion, they couldn't find us anymore. Hunk and I were trying to keep you comfortable. Shiro was providing a distraction. Allura and Coran were readying the med bay. Hunk and I though...we had to bring you back. For three minutes, your heart..." Keith couldn't say it again, but Lance was able to get the gist of it. "We got you breathing again, though. And we landed and put you in a healing pod to repair your ribs and whatever else they had done to you. It's been a week, you've been in and out of consciousness for a while but this is the most lucid you've been." His expression softened. "How are you feeling?"

Lance was reeling from the information given to him. He had...died? And not only that, but he had really been rescued? He was in the infirmary? It certainly smelled like it, what with the sterile atmosphere and the way everything was bright white and there was a bed. The pain from falling off said bed came back to him and he winced. "I uh... I feel alright." And it was true. Physically he felt better. He didn't feel nearly as broken as he had while lying on the grate in his cell. Though his tailbone hurt and every part of him was sore. "I'm tired," he admitted. Keith nodded and scooted closer, pulling one of Lance's arms around his shoulders and standing up, lifting Lance with him.

"Let's get you back into bed," he explained as he helped Lance shuffle back to the bed. Once he was settled, Lance was able to take inventory of what had really happened to him, and just how anxious his body was. He was expecting pain any minute. He was just waiting for Keith to turn on him, like he had countless times before. He could feel the tension in every part of him, and the tightness mixed with the soreness of lying in bed for a week was getting to him and making him ache.

"You're really here," Lance breathed to himself, unaware that Keith heard him. "You came for me..."

"Of course we did, we didn't give up looking for you."

"But you don't need me."

"What are you talking about? You're part of our team, we couldn't have a team without you."

"But Blue... Allura's flying her now." Keith went quiet at that.

"...how did you know that?"

Lance's eyes filled with tears. "Haggar. She said you don't need me. Found someone to replace me. You weren't going to come back."

"That's bullshit." Keith's voice was sharp but it wasn't directed at Lance. Regardless, Lance flinched and looked away. "Listen to me Lance. Allura started flying Blue, yes. But it was temporarily. We never were able to form Voltron and you're a way better pilot than Allura is. No offence to the princess, but she's better at flying the castle than one of the lions. Now that you're back, Blue is all yours again. We just needed Blue to help us find you, and Allura was able to communicate with her and fly her, but only for short amounts of time. You're her true pilot. She never gave up on you."

"She never said anything to me. I felt so alone, Keith..."

Keith was quiet for a moment. "I-I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, unsure how to handle the emotions. Thankfully the thick air was dissipated when the infirmary door opened and the others came in with Coran leading the group.

"I got an alert that Lance was up and about?" Coran said while looking down at a tablet. "How is he d- Oh! Lance!" He looked up and rushed to his side. "How are you feeling, lad? Alright, I hope. The pod was able to fix all your physical injuries, and mind you there were a lot. You must be feeling tip-top now!" Lance smiled softly up at Coran.

"I guess. Just tired."

The rest of the team filed in and surrounded Lance in his bed. Voices overlapped as they all tried speaking to him.

"Lance, you're awake!"

"How are you doing?"

"What happened?"

"I'm so sorry, we got there as fast as we could!"

Lance closed his eyes and held up a hand to try to quiet them. "I'm okay, I'm alright now that I'm back home with you all. It was scary there. I had...uh...I had some bad experiences. But it's in the past. I'm okay." The relief that washed over the team was palpable and Lance relaxed in the knowledge that he was surrounded by his real team, the ones who cared about him and wanted him safe and healthy.

Slowly, the tension bled out of his limbs and he sunk into the mattress, eyes sliding shut. "'m really tired though, mind if I take a nap?" He said quietly. He was out before he could hear a response, but he knew he was safe. It would take some time to convince himself it was real, but he had to try. His team didn't give up on him. He couldn't give up on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! If you enjoyed, please remember to leave kudos, it really means a lot to me <3 Also, what was your favorite part? Leave me a comment! What would you have preferred? More torture? More comforting afterward? More on the recovery? Tell me what you all like to see in a hurt/comfort fic, and I'll keep it in mind for next time! (Personally I like the torture part, with a little bit of comfort, so that's what this fic is lol)


End file.
